Turkey Marcher
by turkeymarcher
Summary: What kind of hero does gotham really need, and what would it take to leave that life behind? Rated m for language.
1. Chapter 1

Hero, a controversial word, the online dictionary defines a hero as "A man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds and noble qualities." In Gotham, very few people have achieved heroism by this definition, and this story is about none of these. No, because sometimes a hero is not what the people need, hero's have rules, whether they be super strict like Nightwing's, or as simple as not killing or refusing to sell drugs to children. Like it or not, Bruce and Jason had to accept that these rules of theirs, whilst serving to separate them from Gotham's crime scene (some by more degrees than others!) also limited what they could really do for the people, for, to combat some evils, it is not enough for an intelligent, seasoned Oracle on a computer, or even the sort of antihero death couldn't stop, the feared assassin, Jason, who Gotham reporters claimed had the least moral hindrance out of the whole so called 'bat family.'

The reporters were about to learn how ugly the real core of Gotham had become, even after years of determined work by faithful cops like the police commissioner, Jim Gordon, and vigilante recon, such as Nightwing and the bat himself. These efforts had only served to scratch the surface of the real underbelly of Gotham's crime problem, and, as these poor souls were about to discover, sometimes, the hero who scratches needs to be prepared to bite as well.


	2. Chapter 2

The Hacker.

Tim Drake was, debatably the most pure of the vigilante force in Gotham, and he acted it too. With long sleeved tee shirts, dress pants, and his briefcase (containing his laptop) he resembled Gotham's middle-upper business class. It had been years since Tim had donned the outfit of red robin, and even more since he played the part of Batman's sidekick. Tim, however was far from retired, and as Gotham's newly appointed Defence Attorney, he was putting more criminals behind bars than 'robin' ever did. But this time it was him, Tim Drake, not some anonymous masked kid, playing second fiddle to a millionaire in a rubber batsuit. No, these days Tim's mentor was the legendary cop, Commissioner Gordon, whose old school attitude, gut feelings and cop knowledge meshed well with Tim's aptitude with technology in general. Yes, the younger member of what Gotham papers had recently deemed 'the dynamic duo.' (An irony that had made Tim grimace more than once.) was doing amazing things, and the trial he was on his way to was his most important yet.

"Hi, Tim." Jim said, cheerily, opening the door for him, followed by an ear piercing whizzing noise, causing the seasoned cop to duck and draw his firearm. Tim said nothing, just dropped heavily to his side, revealing a hole shot nicely through his chest. In anger, Gordon leapt out, exposing his position, and spotted the upper window where the sniper had been, and sprinted across the street, flinging the door open, toppling three asian businessmen who, seeing his glock drawn, scurried away quickly. Striding up the stairs of the complex, his footsteps grew wider and wider as he reached floor 7, where he had spotted the hitman, just in time to see him leap out of the window to his death. "Fuck!" Gordon bellowed, panting as his smoker's lungs caught up with him. "Fuck!"


	3. Chapter 3

The Funeral

The official service had been formal, preachy and seemed wrong. It had talked about Tim's position on the force, his friendly attitude, and his techie knowhow. This event was a bit more revealing. Batman sat at the head of a long wooden table. A mug of whiskey in his hand, as he mumbled about fond memories, and held back tears, the two females sat to his left, both teary eyed and remorseful. To his right sat a sombre Nightwing and a vengeful Red hood. Dick spoke first.

"Maybe Tim had the right idea, I mean, aren't we all getting a bit old for this? A life with no masks, no secrets, now that sounds good to me!" To this, Barbara nodded in agreement, and Steph whimpered a little.

"No, you idiot!" Jason yelled angrily. "Going clean is exactly what got Tim killed, the masks are what allow us to remain effective, and the secrets are what keep us alive!"

Tension grew, as both Dick and Jason refused to speak next, both comically fuming at each other. Until the silence was broken by the sobbing of the younger Batgirl.

"He...he's really dead!" She whimpered, and, suddenly, a trapdoor opened from the roof, blasting loud music and dispersing confetti, which surrounded the room, causing Steph and Barbara to hit the deck, and Batman and Nightwing to wrap their capes around themselves instinctively. Jason drew both guns, aiming them frantically, trying to locate the source of the commotion. Finally, the coloured streams of paper settled, revealing a grinning Damian, proudly posing on the nearby bookshelf.

"Someone said the magic word!" He exclaimed cheerfully. "Drake is DEAD!"


	4. Chapter 4

Rob'n Hood

There was a crash as the whole section of wall covering the bank exploded, a single man, jumping through the flames, striding towards the safe, and strapping a large stick of dynamite to it. Soon, the safe was wide open, and the package he was looking for was safely in his satchel. As he walked away from the scene, he shot his flare, signalling his disreputable 'friends' to begin the crime spree as a cover up. Soon, he was safe in the limo, driven by Lucius Fox. "Where to, mr Todd?"

"Anywhere, just drive!" Once they were clear of the bank, and the sound of rioting, Jason opened the sealed document, and glancing over it, he gasped. "No!" he yelled. "He hired the hitman, him?" But Tim was..."

"Getting in his way, mr Todd." Lucius finished, brandishing a revolver from under his coat, pointing it at the man in red. "And so are you!"

Dropping the body amongst the madness of the riots, Lucius figured it would be hours before anyone discovered what was left of Jason Todd.


	5. Chapter 5

Lollipop

When most girls in Gotham felt down, they fasted or slutted, but not Barbara Gordon. No, Barbara was sprinting around the candy factory where she and Jason used to shoplift from during the time she was less proud of. This time, however, all her candy was paid for, and she was pushing it around in a trolley, trying to gain as much speed as possible. Just then, a man walked in. One in a red hood, and trenchcoat.

"Hey, Jason." She sighed, don't judge me, alright? It's just, ever since Tim..."

Jason looked at her strangely, although any expression could have been behind that mask. "Ever since Tim what?" he asked. "Jason, stop playing, oh, lemme guess, you want me to say the d-e-a-d word so Damian can jump in again?"

"Uhh, yeah, you got me." The masked man replied. "Say, you want a lift home?"

Usually she would have said no, would have walked, but right now she was vulnerable, she figured she deserved to make a mistake by going with Jason, she could regret it in the morning, and would deny it afterwards, whilst crying and eating donuts in Tim's memory. Nothing strange occurred to her as she approached the counter. "Too trusting." The masked man thought to himself. "Too innocent."


	6. Chapter 6

Blue Fury

Dick Grayson kneeled in the church, weeping for his fallen friends. "Tim, dead, Jason too, and Babs missing, where is justice, you bastard!" He screamed at the statue of Jesus. "Mr Nightwing, sir." The priest urged. "Please do not refer to our lord and saviour as a bastard!" Apologising, Dick returned to praying, not his greatest skill. "Why did you let this happen, god? You were meant to protect the righteous, but Tim... You fucking bastard, Jesus!"

"S-s-sir, please..." The priest stuttered, embarrassed for all the local families, now fully aware of the blue costumed man spurting profanities at the bearded statue. "All are welcome to this house of god, but I must insist that you refrain from referring to Jesus as..."

"A bastard?" Dick asked hysterically. "But he was, wasn't he? The virgin Mary couldn't have been married to... god?" The priest glared at him, angrily. "Many ladies of the cloth devote themselves as god's wives, I'll have you know!"

"Nuns, you mean?" Dick replied cheekily, reason returning to him as he confronted the priest. "But Mary was married to Joseph, so she couldn't have been married to god, therefore Jesus is a..."

"Bastard!" Finished a wided eyed ten year old girl, "Mommy, Jesus was a bastard!" The fuming priest then kicked Nightwing out, spewing accusations about devil guided intentions. But now Dick was ready for the upcoming fight. Leaping across the rooftops, he went to meet with one of the only people left who could help him.


	7. Chapter 7

Another bird

Stephanie Brown was on her way to tutor the Gotham High year ten gymnastics team, when a figure approached her, one in a trenchcoat, wearing a red mask. "Jason!" She exclaimed surprised. "Is this important? I'm kinda running late, although If you wanna help me stretch..." She winked.

'Unbelievable' The hooded stranger thought. 'Tim's not even cold in his grave... and already, this should be easier than I thought!'

Silently, Steph was handed a note with simple instructions on it, she looked confused. "Jase, behind the dumpster by the park is a bit white trash even for you... but whatever. See you there at eight."

Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne watches the footage of Lucius dispatching Jason and donning his costume. From the kidnapping and extermination of Barbara to this moment now. All are reported to him, as he watches, and he smiles. 'Gotham needs a hero.' He says to himself. 'But a hero who follows MY rules one will win my cowl, the rest will die!'


	8. Chapter 8

The servant

The word 'no' was not one in the vocabulary of Alfred Pennyworth. Sworn to serve the Wayne family until the day he died, but this old butler had stretched the fibres of his morality enough. Donning his old safari suit, and brandishing a hunting rifle as old as time, he began his march against Bruce. "Mr, Wayne," He protested. "You've gone too far!" Bruce glared at him, both in shock and disbelief. "Alfred!" He snapped. "You are sworn to serve me, how dare you?" The old man tearfully looked back, emotion dripping from his words. "Serve AND protect, Master Wayne, and I will protect you and your house, even from yourself!" Bruce disarmed his old friend with ease, knocking him to the ground, Looking up, Alfred glared at the hovering batface, an image of fear. "Why do we fall, Alfred?" The crazed bat shouted, then kicked him in the ribs. "S...so that w...we c...c...can learn..." He started, but was cut off. "Wrong!" The masked man, yelled, stomping on Alfred's chest. We fall because we are weak, don't you see, I will make crime in Gotham fall!"

'Whack!' The punch hit the side of Alfred's face hard, almost causing him to black out. "I will make the police fall!" 'Whack!' Consciousness started to fade for a moment. They will all be under me, under the next a whole city under one bat!" Pulling the next punch, he grabbed the nearly dead man, and pushed him up against the wall. "Tell me it makes sense, Alfred!" He screamed into his face. "TELL ME!" But Alfred would not succumb to his madness and, as he shook him more and more, demanding an answer, Alfred slept like he hadn't in years, never to wake again.


	9. Chapter 9

The clipped wing

Just as Nightwing entered the batcave, he was hit by a familiar dart, sleep found him quickly as he was sedated, and fell into a deep sleep. Once again, he yearned for an easy life, a normal life, if only it were possible. For years, Tim had lived under his shadow, only to live out Dick's secret dream, then be killed by it. Slowly, the nausea kicked in, the last thing he saw was a red hood. "Jason!" He wheezed. "Help..."

He awoke in a cell, stripped of all his gadgets and armour. Bruce had always thought it would be Dick who would take on the cowl, and become Gotham's hero after him, so, when he saw how easy his capture had been, he was a tad angry, and as he strode to the cells, to dispatch the last of the 'bat family,' one murky shadow on the wall remained, one overlooked contestant, one who was as far from a hero as the joker himself.


	10. Chapter 10

The Turkey Marcher

When a man strives to be more than they are, they become deranged, sometimes as much as the fuming, mad batman now looming over his last adversary. But what happens when one strives to be less? In front of the raging bat, a small boy stood in a blue and black outfit, batons sizzling with electricity, and the sleeves on the Nightwing costume cut short to accommodate the arms and legs of the suit's new occupant. Soon, Bruce would know the wrath of one neither heroic nor selfless, and, as the first baton was raised to electrocute the bat across the room, Damian began to cry, the snotty tears of an eight year old. "Alfred tucked me in, DAD!" he yelled, zapping him again. "Todd cooked me soufflés!" 'ZAP!' "Brabra read me stories!" 'ZAP' "And Grayson was ALMOST AS COOL AS ME!" 'ZAP!' 'ZAP!' 'ZAP!' Soon, all that was left of batman, was a charred and horrible corpse, and a hooded red figure entered to face the kid, only to be knocked over by an army of loyal wild turkeys. Giggling, the hood rose to stand. "Stop it, Damian!"


	11. Chapter 11

The Legacy

"...and then, mommy laughed at Damian, and let daddy and your mom out of the cells 'cause it was her plan to keep them safe the whole time, and that's why mum's the best!" The younger boy finished, only to provoke a playful shove from the older girl. "Pull the other one, Grayson, you're telling me that your teacher mom saved my cop mom AND your dad who's DA? Whatever!" Silently laughing, the blonde woman driving listened as her girl argued with little James Grayson. "Serena Drake!" She scolded cheerfully, "Don't be mean to James, now, are you ready to see Babs at school?" Serena rolled her eyes back and sighed, as they drove through the gates that read: TIM DRAKE'S SCHOOL FOR PRECOPS AND 'YOUNG BATS'


End file.
